Monsters
by Stardust16
Summary: Maya has a lot of monsters. Unfortunately, one of them almost takes her life. Rated high T for somewhat dark themes. Please do not read if you are easily trigged or have anxiety/panic attacks.
1. The Attempt

***sigh* Hey guys...**

 **I'm not really sure why I'm posting this— _again_.**

 **I posted this once last year, but took it down because although did think it was good, I also thought it was kind of like a little rant for me since I, mentally, wasn't doing to well at the time I originally posted this.**

 **So, I took it down. It was short, but it was also kinda personal. I wrote this and tied my story in with Maya's.**

 **Not all of it is inspired by me though. The college, the razors and classmates? Yeah, that's not me. I'm not in college, only halfway through high school.**

 **But the poems about being an outcast and hiding them in a drawer? Yeah, that's me. I actually wrote poems like that.**

 **So, hopefully you guys like it. I don't really feel comfortable posting it, but I feel like doing so gives me comfort, so what's why I'm doing so. And, if you guys _do_ like it, I'll post other parts. Second, third, fourth, you name it, I'll post it. :)**

* * *

Maya had a good life.

Or at least, she thought she did.

She went through traumatic experiences when her mom and dad started fighting. Things were thrown, words were said and she constantly heard her mom's screams echo throughout the night.

But once she met Riley, that all changed.

Riley introduced her to Farkle, Lucas, Zay and Smackle, and suddenly everything was okay again.

Until she went to college.

At college, things were awful. Yes, she was at a great school, and yes, the professors were amazing, but the classmates and students were an entirely different story.

Every day, every hour of every week, she heard laughter in the halls.

Laughter, that she _knew_ , was directed at her.

Words were said, and pointed were fingers—literally. Each time she arrived to a lecture or a class, late or not, she'd always sink back into her chair, desperately and deeply hoping to drown out the world around her.

And then during each class, she'd fall asleep and after each class, her teacher always ask her whether she was alright, to which she'd always reply "Yes, yes, I am, thank you," and hurry out the door.

Because truth was...

She _wasn't_.

Maya was diagnosed with the depression at the age of nine, exactly two years after her father left and two years after she met Riley and Farkle as well.

She wrote poems about being an outcast and outsider among her peers and poems about contemplating suicide, both of which her mother found stuffed inside a random drawer in her bedroom.

She wasn't good at hiding things so how she hid her thoughts and feelings for two years straight, she didn't know.

After that, her mother had a talk with her about love and how life was worth living, but it didn't change anything.

So, she went to a therapist.

But that didn't work either and after three months of trying—of trying to not feel this way and trying not to give up—she failed. She failed to try, she didn't want to try anymore, the therapist was just there to get paid, it wasn't like he actually wanted to help her.

He just wanted the money.

And at the time, they didn't have much of that. Her mom made twenty dollars an hour—previously ten—in the small Nighthawk Cafe she worked at, but it wasn't enough.

It never was.

They barely had enough to buy food, they barely made it through the winter, nevermind the year.

But now they had Shawn, they had Shawn, and they had enough money to buy food and send her to college.

But she still felt like something was wrong.

Because after years of crying and feeling like she wanted to die, she was now getting teased and made fun of for it.

Which just raised the pain to a whole new level.

For the past few weeks, she'd been going to the college counsellor (yes, they did have one of those), but unfortunately, it hadn't made much help. And now, here she was, contemplating suicide again.

Once more.

It's not like anybody'd miss her. Her friends at this school were almost nonexistent, with the exception of her roommate. Sure, her mom and Shawn would be disappointed, but they have another kid coming, so it's not like they'd miss her.

While thinking and contemplating all of this—all of her thoughts—she made her way to the bathroom she shared with her female roommate and opened up the drawer full of shampoos, conditioners and razors.

 _Razors_.

With a flick of her finger, she turned it on and the little buzzing sound that sounded oddly familiar to a swarm of bees filled the room.

Slowly, she brought it to her skin...

...and broke down crying.

She collapsed on her knees—on her hands and knees—at that moment, dropping the razor and throwing it across the room. "No," She cried, "No, no, no, no, I can't do this, I-I can't, I just can't." She had so many friends and family, she couldn't even bare to imagine what'd happen to them if she actually committed it. There was no way she could do that to them, her herself, to her mom.

She already lost her husband, there was no way Maya was gonna take her daughter from her too.

She had then, while close to hyperventilating, grabbed the dorm phone before quickly dialling the number she needed to call.

"Mom?" She called, "Shawn? I-I think I have a problem."

* * *

 **So, yeah. Not really sure why I posted this. But, if you guys do like it and do want me to post more, leave a little review and I'll see if I can get back to you.**

 **If I get nothing by the end of the day tomorrow, I'll be shutting this story down. *shrugs* What? I'm insecure. Don't judge.**

 **~Star**


	2. The Therapist

**Hey guys, I'm back. Not really sure why, bur you guys wanted a part two, so here it is.**

 **Now, before we get started, the story's gonna be short, okay? They're gonna be small snippets of what it's like to suffer through.. sadness, I'll say because although I've gone through some of this stuff to, I'm not sure if other's have and, if not, I want to sugar-coat it for them so never have to.**

 **Another thing; these short snippets are based off of me. They're based off of my experience, my life, so if anybody wants to say something like "Oh, but this would never happen to Maya!" please, don't.**

 **So, the last snippet was based off of me and so is this one.**

 **I'll make it easy for you guys to understand; a few months back in May, I was in a really terrible place—mentally. Physically, yeah, I was fine, but not my mind. I couldn't help getting myself upset over the littlest things (homework, social media, social environments) and it bothered me _so much_. I was crying every day when I got home from school, until I fell asleep on my bed, with no more tears left.**

 **My family didn't even know.**

 **Well, they did, in a way, I suppose. I told them I was having a hard time with the homework, because that was what was part of my anxiety. The homework, the stress of being perfect, the stress of having oh-so-fantastic friends who did better than me at freakin' _everything_.**

 **I felt so bad compared to them, even if nobody did compare us, and felt bad compared to everybody else. I wasn't pretty, I wasn't popular, I wasn't smart, and I _certainly_ wasn't somebody just anybody would talk to.**

 **In other words, I felt like an outcast.**

 **I skipped school for three days because I was in such a bad state. That was when my parents found out and took me to a counselling agency, who recommended me to a therapist.**

 **And, trust me when I say, she did _not_ help.**

 **I did not speak at all, but, then again, I didn't really want to. The therapist felt so—so condescending, I _couldn't take it._**

 **So, that is what this is about. The Therapist. Hope you all enjoy it, let me know if you have ideas or want more. I'm open to suggestions, but only in reviews.**

* * *

"Maya?" The woman in front of her took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if that'd do anything to calm her nerves. "Maya, do you know why you're here?"

The blonde girl raised her head to look at the therapist—counsellor, her parents called it—but said nothing. She couldn't. She couldn't open up to this stranger, not when she'd been holding everything for too, for way too long.

"I do," She whispered after a minute, her dirty blonde hair covering her face. "But that doesn't mean I necessarily need to be."

Gosh, why did she keep acting so rude?

This person—this expert, this professional—wanted to help her, but she couldn't. She couldn't let them in, not when she'd broken too many times to count. After all, how would they even react? Kick her out? Refer her to a mental hospital? Tell her parents everything—and she meant everything—she said, she spilled—if she did, that is—after telling her she wouldn't?

She didn't understand and as the therapist's voice faded away, so did Maya's mind.

The room, the floods, the ceilings, everything, started to tilt for a minute and the blonde rearranged herself in the cold, hard wooden chair to keep her focus. Not on the therapist, though. No, she just kept her focus on the ground.

For the next _thirty minutes._

And once she was done, it felt like a breath of relief, getting up, from sitting in the awkward tension, as the clock ticked and tocked.

She knew she couldn't walk straight out. Heck, she couldn't even walk into the room, her Mom and Shawn had to come with her.

She didn't know how she'd be able to walk into that same room, next week, alone.

Gosh, why'd she always push people away?

It wasn't that she necessarily wanted to, but she just couldn't help it. When she was younger, she relied on almost no one and now she was trying to learn to refrain herself from that now.

So why was it so hard?

Why was it _so hard_ and so difficult to open up, to let people in, to let them _help?_

Gosh, all she wanted was help.

 _'Help.'_ Maya thought as she walked out of the office. _'Someone, help me. Please.'_

* * *

 **Okay, guys, before I say anything else; if you are going through something like this, _please_ , get help. There's a reason why I put a warning in the story summary and a reason why this is rated a high T.**

 **Because, if you guys are going through these things, I do _not_ want you to. **

**Okay? That's it, that's all. If you are going through something and are reading these, _please_ , stop.**

 **I know, I know; "what? What kind of writer asks their readers to stop reading?"**

 **But the kind of writer that does that, is a caring one. So please stop reading this _right now_ if you have dealt with these issues in the past and are still dealing with them or are still likely to go back to dealing with them.**

 **The only reason I'm writing this is because it helps me connect and calm down. Luckily, I didn't have any anxiety attacks today—thank goodness—but that doesn't mean I won't get them again. This story is _really_ personal to me, I'm still insecure with every chapter I post, but hopefully you like it. And, if you don't...**

 **Well, then, don't say anything. Don't make me feel worse or make _anybody_ feel worse than they already do. We don't need that, we don't want that, and I will report _any_ comments that even _imply_ that.**

 **Okay? *nods* Okay.**

 **~Star**


	3. The Joke

**Okay, um... I did _not_ mean to write this much or even write this at all. I was thinking about updating, yes, but because I'm still insecure about this story, I wasn't... actually _going_ to. Not today, at least.**

 **But, I started writing and... I couldn't stop.**

 **I didn't even know I had this in me, but, since it's based off of me, I shouldn't be surprised, right?**

 **So, last snippet was based off of me and so is this one. Well, kind of. I've never heard jokes like this before (joked about seizures and serious medical conditions? Sure. Joked about suicide? Sorry, no), but I _did_ have an anxiety attack last year on the second-to-last day of school. I'd just gotten out of my English class... Man, was that a bad class. (Long story short, we were having a party and I wasn't having song fun, so I asked to work on a project in the lab.**

 **And you know what my so-called English teacher did?**

 **He gave a freakin' _speech_ on how, "Okay, guys, let's make sure everyone is having fun! Anyone's not be included? Include them anyway!"**

 **Long story short? I was _embarrassed_.**

 **I had no friends in that class and the one friend I _did_ have in that class, he was Mr. Popular. Always surrounded by everyone and _anyone_ who could surround themselves with him, would.**

 **And, being an insecure introvert... Well, I couldn't exactly make my way over there and impress everybody with some magic trick, could I?**

 **So, I just sat there the entire class... _crying_.**

 **And then there was this guy who I sat beside. He didn't like me for some reason (I don't know why), but that didn't mean he had to stare at me the entire time _crying,_ right?**

 **So, goal for today (or tomorrow, whatever time zone you're in): If you see someone upset, walk up to them and ask them what's wrong. Offer things you can do to help, even if it's just talking or meeting up sometime on the weekends.**

 **Just _talk to someone_ , alright? **

**Talk to someone and make sure they're okay. Because... well, some of us aren't.**

* * *

It all starts in school one day.

She's at school, back at Abigail Adams High, with Riley, Farkle, Lucas and Zay when she just, she hears it.

She hears it and it tears her apart.

"Dude, don't be a loser. _Kill yourself_ if you can't take a joke like that, but don't come crying to me, _'kay?_ "

It's only one sentence, and maybe she's taking it out if context, but one sentence is enough to put her people over the edge.

Why?

Well, because there's actually people who want to kill themselves and here these two, these two boys are, talking about it, like it's some easy thing to keep yourself from doing and definitely not a life-or-death situation.

Like it's easy to just resist, to just…end it all.

But she's been wanting to end it for years.

And she still has.

Maybe, today or tonight, she finally can.

And, as she thinks this, she runs into the nearest bathroom, but before she can get anywhere, Riley comes with her. She comes with her, she follows her, because she's concerned, and although all Maya wants to do is shout at her to get out right now, she can't, she can't because Riley's caring and concerned and she's acting out (what a stupid way to put it) because of that, because she wants to make things better, better for her, better for everyone, and not because she wants to make it worse.

Gosh, no. That's… that's the _last_ thing she wants to do.

But Maya can't understand that, she doesn't know that, because people have left her before, ever since she was little, so why wouldn't they leave her now? It's not like they have no reason _not_ to.

"Riley!" She screams and her breath is shaky, coming in small sobs. She brings a hand to her mouth, not wanting anyone else to hear her shout, scream and sob because she cannot deal with that right now, she can't, she just can't. "Leave." She brings her voice down to a whisper, her tears flowing like a river although she doesn't really want them to. "Leave," She orders. "Please."

"No," Riley replies, almost immediately. She then takes a step closer, to where her best friend, her Peaches, her everything is leaning against the one and Maya instantly inches away at the contact, despite having nowhere to go. "Maya," She says again and, this time, it's softer, and much more quieter than before. "This—" She gestures around them and the blonde instantly knows what the brunette's referring to. "This isn't okay. You need help, Maya, you need to get help. This, this isn't right."

She takes a deep breath and sighs. She wants to scream, to shout, to screech, because when has anything in her life ever been 'right'? It's a stupid way of phrasing it, really. But, then again, so was her life. Other kids didn't have their fathers walk out on them, they didn't have to deal with the pain and pressure, and they certainly didn't have to deal with depression, at age nine, nonetheless.

Depression by nine… What a horrible age to be diagnosed by.

Other kids were happy, were excited, for simple things, like going to school and being able to see their friends. But, nooo, that wasn't enough for her.

But, then again, she'd never gotten enough.

No, she always got less than that.

"Maya?" She can feel Riley drawing her back to reality and, by now, her best friend is by her side, ready to be needed for whatever comes next. "Maya?" She says again, and it's so hard not to flinch or wince at her words. "Maya, you okay?"

 _"No",_ she wants to say. Because when has anything ever been okay anyway?

But instead, she replies with a "yeah" and plasters a fake smile to her equally-fake face. "Panic attack," She assures the girl and, although it's not really the truth, it's not exactly a lie either. "Thanks."

"Anytime." The happy-go-lucky, doesn't give a care in the world, girl smiles at her, because that's what she's supposed to do, right? She's supposed to smile and pretend everything is okay because although everything is okay for her, everything might not be okay for the person she cares about most.

And that, that's _not_ okay.

But, she restrains herself from asking, because she doesn't wanna push her bestie over the edge. Maya would… tell her, if something was wrong, right? …Wouldn't she?

She quietly sighs and quietly hopes so.

"Let's go back to class, 'kay?" She asks, but doesn't miss the pain in Maya's eyes. The _last_ thing she wants to do is go back to class, to go back and act like everything's okay, to go back and sit with people who aare okay, when she's definitely _not_. Not at all. "Lucas and Farkle were worried about you," The brunette then adds.

And, as they're walking out of the washroom, all the blonde can think is ' _Were. They were worried about me. Just like…'_ She takes a deep breath. _'My dad in the past.'_

* * *

 ***sigh* So, hopefully you guys liked this chapter...**

 **I'd love to stick around, but I actually gotta go now. Why? Well, because, although I'm going to a new school, with new people who don't know anything about me (which means I can be whoever I want to be), my siblings _still_ want me to change my _entire appearance_.**

 **Which is just, great, thanks.**

 **Yep, and all I wanna do is _be me_ and sleep. Nice, right?**

 **No? It's okay, I don't think so.**

 **But I hope you guys are happy and have a good day tomorrow. And, if so... Well, hopefully it lasts.**

 **~Star**


End file.
